


Jedi: Risen Chaos

by Lucien_Bubblegum



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Corruption, F/M, Female on Male Rape, Force Choking (Star Wars), M/F Rape, Mind Break, Mind Rape, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape, Rough Sex, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucien_Bubblegum/pseuds/Lucien_Bubblegum
Summary: After their fateful duel on Bogano, Cal Kestis has been captured by the dreaded Second Sister. Half-nude and held down on an interrogation chair, the Inquisitor subjects him to the true power of the dark side.Based on the video game Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order. Saw the Second Sister was qt dark side gf and decided to write this.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri | Second Sister
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Jedi: Risen Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> In an AU where Cal loses his duel on Bogano and is captured by the Second Sister. This fanfic operates under the presumption that Jedi are completely celibate.

Reality returned to him slowly, first was the stench. A billowing blow of burning sulphur crept into his nose and singed the hairs, shocking him from his induced inertia with a burning sensation heading right down into his lungs. A full-bodied gasp sent him lurching forward, but his body was given no room to move, his wrists were met with sharp pain as he motioned forward. By this point his body was moving on instinct, it all happened so fast he felt he had never left the fight.

The last thing he could remember was… Darkness, sorrow, regret, fear, pity, apathy, anger, hate… Power. He was shocked from his complacency once again as he recalled his trial on Bogano’s vault, the blackened mirror he saw himself in, the once clear line between light and dark blurred past recognition, the sickly red glow in his hand. 

The closest Cal Kestis had ever come to feeling the grace of true power, and how terrible it was to him. What came after his battle was still muddied in his head, but he remembered her, Trilla. Even if it was her face filled with rage and determination, he could never hope to forget her deep, brooding eyes endlessly piercing him; or her dark, curling lips sneering at every stroke of his saber; or her slick, draping hair jostling with every coordinated flip.

The fight was long and arduous, and Cal’s body was certainly showing signs of wear, his arms felt too weak to lift, even if they weren’t buckled to some posts. He could also feel the long streaking pain of a long lightsaber shiim against his bared chest where the Second Sister had landed a successful blow. He still had no recollection of how she had defeated him so definitely for him to be in this position. 

He eked open his eyes slowly and was met with a harsh glow of red. His vision was blurry at first but his eyes eventually adjusted to the lowlight conditions of his holding chamber. With a wince and a groan he reared his head and looked around, noticing the complex apparatus he found himself in, a frightening mechanical rack set with a series of sharp metallic arms and pads and other torturous restraints. He had picked up tales of Imperial torture back on Bracca, but he had never thought he would be present in one. He could only hope his willpower could overcome any torment the Empire was going to put him under.

But that would apparently wait, as there was no one to oversee his torture, not even a droid. His chamber of suffering was empty sans for him. He struggled against his bonds for a while, working a sweat as the volcanic bursts from below heated him past comfort. When his physical strength proved ineffective, he resorted to his spiritual strength.

He closed his eyes and began to breath uniformly, slowly in and out, his body raising and lowering as he did. His mind now separate from his body he reached out and joined the Force, the flowing chorus of life feeling stifled and even sick in the dingy place. Still it was of use to him, and he focused on the durasteel cuffs around his wrists, with enough concentration he could feel the mechanism inside and spring it with ease. 

Just as he felt he was close a sharp shock rocked his entire body, breaking his concentration and sending every muscle spasming out of control. Of course they had planned for a Force-sensitive, any connection to the Force would likely be severed by a shock. For the first time since finding his new Master had died, Cal felt helpless.

As he hung his head in momentary defeat and listened to the steaming silence of the chamber, suddenly a twinge outside of his body surprised him again. He felt something in the Force, a twisted and troubling element of power and confusion coming toward him rapidly. The blast door of the chamber opened with a metallic scrape and a slender silhouette strutted toward Cal, the door sliding shut behind them and leaving the room isolated once more. As the figure stepped nearer, the feelings of contention within Cal came to fruition.

Trilla Suduri, the Second Sister, stood squarely in front of him with the same predatory look he had seen before, one of a felinx toying with its prey. The smug look was met with one of seething irritation by Cal.

“Cal Kestis. Finally, enough running around. I have you right where you are needed.” The Second Sister smirked at her newly captured target, her gait slowing considerable as she approached the young Jedi. Cal only met her yellowed eyes to show his displeasure with her, shooting her a fierce glare that was shrugged off by the Inquisitor. She had chosen to forgo the helmet as any sense of foreboding mystery had already vanished. 

Strangely she also wasn’t wearing her sleek black Inquisitor’s uniform but instead a full-body wraparound cloak that pooled at her feet, in black of course. The dark fabric of the cape and it’s closed-off nature made the Sister appear as if a floating head amongst the darkness of the room.

“You won’t have me for long. My friends are still out there, they’ll come and find me.” Cal held his head high, defiant to the last. Although from the look on her face, his gallant tenacity was more amusing than intimidating.

“Very amusing-“ Her smirk reared into an insidious grin. “I anticipated the exact same thing when I was in your place, I was so convinced my valiant master would save me. I so believed that the Jedi Order would prevail.” She began laughing, a chuckle low and wry, but her voice was still deadly serious. “They have failed me, they have failed everyone who has ever laid in your place, and they have failed you.”

“They have a way of always coming back. The light side always does.” Cal lifted his chin, meeting the Sister’s fiery gaze, looking deep into her hellish irises. 

“And once again the Padawan overestimates their Master. This is not a mere predication, Cal, this is reality. I captured that glorified scrapheap leaving Bogana and your pathetic crew of traitors with it. I have each of them exactly as you are now, utterly helpless. I have the holocron, I have your contemptible allies, and now I have you.” She seemed to revel in telling Cal how she had brought down his rekindling resistance, but Cal was not listening.

“I thought you were too smart to tell dumb lies.” Cal batted her assertion away, not even wanting to give credence to her obvious ploy to hurt him.

“Even now you cling to hope?” She scoffed in disbelief. “Listen to me now, Jedi, and listen well.” Her arms moved behind the curtain of her pitch-black cloak and she produced an object from within the billowing black. She held Cal’s lightsaber in a delicate, open-palmed manner, leaving the shaft to balance in her hand. At one end the making of his late Master Jaro Tapal and at the other end his new Master Cere Junda’s own saber, both combined as a reminder of his journey toward the Light.

“I reminisce for when I first saw you ignite this on Bracca, I thought you a feeble, pitiful little scrapper when I first saw you. But when I cut down that sordid friend of yours and I saw the absolute hate in your eyes, I felt you were exceptional.” Cal averted his eyes from hers, making sure not to let her recognise how much he despised her for murdering Prauf. The Second Sister ignited the saber at both ends and gave it a few cursory spins in her hand, the weapon humming in the cold, dead air before she pointed its bright blue tip inches away from Cal’s throat.

“If you’re going to stand there and talk to me, I’d much rather you just get this other with.” Cal said, leaning his body forward some and inching closer to the blade of raw, plasmatic heat, daring the Inquisitor to strike him down.

“Oh, if I wanted you dead you would be a pile of ash already.” She assured, still holding the lightsaber with a steady hand. “No, I am going to afford you something I haven’t offered to anyone in your place: Mercy.” The Sister herself even sounded surprised at that, her voice softening slightly from its usual tormenting bite. “I will let you choose to submit yourself to the dark side, to me.”

“And if I choose not to?” Cal goaded her once again, still keeping his neck too close to the edge of light for comfort, the buzzing of the blade almost deafening. 

“Then you will perish by the same arrogance everyone before you has.” The Sister cocked her head to the side and seemingly studied Cal from head-to-toe, her eyes lingering slightly on his exposed chest and the scar she had put there. “Cal, you must let go. Some of us weren’t granted the privilege of choice, our pride was taken by force, ripped forth and torn asunder. I am being generous to you, please accept, for your own sake.” Her voice was much softer now, all the hatred dissipated into a calm and strangely concerned voice, even the fire in her eyes seemed to weaken and let a glimpse to Trilla. But Cal was still deaf to her twisted pleas of compliance, he would get through to Trilla, but not like this.

“I’m sorry Trilla, but I’m not like you. I won’t just give in, because I know there are people waiting for me. Even if they’re captured I know they’ll never stop trying, because they still see the Light, they still have hope.” Cal was talking directly to Trilla now, the young and terrified Padawan behind the Imperial veneer of malice and superiority. She smirked in response.

“The hubris of the Jedi fails you again.” She chuckled lightly to herself. “I so desired you would reject my benevolence, so now I shall show you what it feels like to have your trust stripped away and shattered.” Each word in her sentence rose with vitriol until it culminated with a leftwards woosh of Cal’s saber, her arm rearing backwards in an attack pattern Cal recognised, a sai cha, a killing blow. He closed his eyes in anticipation, knowing desperately that he would soon become one with the Force.

But no relief came, seconds past and he still felt the volcanic heat simmering his skin, the sulphuric smell burning his sinuses, the cold ambient silence of the room. He opened his eyes when he heard the telltale sound of his saber shutting off. He looked at Trilla, then to his weapon only to see his foil arc her arm and send the sacred object spinning into the air, tumbling down into the bottomless pit of heat below them.

“Noooooo!” Cal yelled, watching his personal armament disappear into the nothingness below, the bellowing plumes of heat swallowing up his Master’s combined efforts like they were trash sent to the compactor. All he could recall in this moment was the scolding of his Master when he lost his first saber, and the sacrifice he had made to give him a new one. Now it was for nothing.

“Yes Cal!” The Second Sister bared her teeth at her prey’s show of raw emotion. She leant forward, eyes widening as she seemed to drink in Cal’s bubbling anger. “That is but a fleeting pang of agony compared to what I shall inflict on you shortly.”

“You’re a monster. You gave yourself up to the Dark Side because you were afraid. Well I’m not, and I won’t buckle” Cal spat his words through clenched teeth, doing his best to stifle the rage within him.

“Oh no, I didn’t yield to the dark side immediately.” The Sister’s hand moved up the still tightly closed billowing opening of her cloak all the way up to the cold, metallic clasp that kept both drapes together. With a click she undid the simple broach and pulled it loose, the gathered cloak slipping away, falling from her sloping shoulders. As the robe fell to the floor it revealed inch after inch of purely bare skin, from her shoulders to her breast, naval, hips, and legs the thick black cloak eventually fell at her feet, exposing her nude body for Cal. “It seduced me…”

The young man was shocked at first, jaw agape and eyes wide in intrinsic response. He jerked his head to the side and clenched his eyes shut to avert the image from his eyes. But even if he saw her naked form for a split-second he still instinctively held an image of it in his mind. 

Her shoulders were elegantly sloped, the gentle curve of her collarbone sitting high on her chest, just above a pair of modest yet perky breasts centred with two deep brown nipples standing at attention. Her bosom gave way to a notably tight tummy, years of excessive Inquisitor training had seen her strip any fat from it and instead the bronzed skin gave hints to an underlying wall of hard abdominal muscles. Her hips smoothly sank outwards and rounded off in a nice, full expanse with a hairless triangle of visibly soft flesh traveling downward toward a neat inward fold, hinting at the treasure further down. Her limbs were slender and graceful, but showed signs of toiling muscle within, the flex of a bicep or the pump of blood showing she had considerable definition and vascularity.

Overall, despite her dainty and slender frame she made up an image of imposing dominance even out of uniform. Especially out of uniform. Cal wondered what had caused her to bare herself to him, what part of the dark side had warped her mind to this, or what trick was she intending to pull to break his mind. Whatever it was he intended to ignore it through virtue.

“Haha, like a child!” The Second Sister outright cackled at him. “How characteristically unsurprising. Still clinging desperately to your Jedi morals.” Cal was still averted to her, keeping his eyes closed as hard as he possibly could and hanging his head low, all he heard was the soft pads of her bare feet bending on the metal flooring. 

Suddenly he felt a hard pulling grip around his jaw, and with little resistance his head was jerked upwards and held there, vibrating in place. The invisible grasp was then felt on his eyes, a dull clawing motion pulling down on each eyelid and threatening to tear them back if he didn’t budge. The rough handling made his body squirm in place, each second feeling as if it would rip his eyes open, but he couldn’t twist his head to the side and break her concentrated hold on him. He was firmly in place and couldn’t stand it.

“Look at me Cal… Look at me!” She hissed violently, her Force-hold on him tightening as she did. After a few more moments of pointless toiling against his foil’s insidious torture, the tension got to much and Cal’s eyes burst open to do as his captor said. She was standing there, still nude with a single arm risen, her hand outstretched in a clenching claw holding him in place. He stared down on her, trying desperately to keep contact on her eyes, but his wayward stare moved further down to gaze upon her breasts.

It was the first pair he had ever seen, in the flesh at least. Sure, he had glanced a few Twi’lek holoshows in the Guild before, but never paid attention. He knew desire to be a dangerous thing that could easily lead to dark paths and that discipline and self-control were against the more carnal urges of his body. He knew this, but in this moment he felt his self-control wain.  
The Second Sister’s intimidating poise drew him in, and his eyes left him to explore her. Her skin was a most gorgeous shade of light-brown and now slicked with a thin gloss of sweat, with more beads of precipitation trailing down the long curves of her body. Her body in its Force-wielding state was tight and concentrated, her many muscles flexed beneath her smooth skin and added soft indents across her body. 

From his position Cal could stare right down at her small bust, each breast slightly coned yet rolling with all the intrigue of supple flesh. Flashes of veins snaked and led his eyes to her nipples, a squeezable thickness and adorned with minute bumps all over the areola. Cal thought them a perfectly mouthable size and imagined himself sucking and nipping at the delicate flesh. He pushed the thought from his mind as soon as it arrived, but the image of him diving into her seemed burned into his head now.

“How adorably predictable. See, even you are but a slave to desire. Aren’t you a little lecherous to be a Jedi?” She teased, flashing her bone white teeth in a small snarl. Even as she stood there stark and ready she still maintained all the threat of her Imperial uniform.

“N-nothing wrong with looking.” Cal responded, trying not to sound phased and failing wholly. It was the first time a naked woman had called him ‘adorable’, and he was definitely feeling the effects even if it was from his enemy.

“Your body is impuissant, but what of your mind?” She spoke and with a quick movement her held hand shot forward and grabbed at Cal’s jaw, the Force still keeping him in place but her hand made it feel all the more real and deadly. Her hand began moving up the right side of his face, fingers writing like snakes through his thick, orange hair until they rested firmly on his temple, each pad pushed down almost unbearably on Cal’s head. Cal struggled in his bonds for he knew what was coming, the mind probe, an inhumane strategy of pulling his thoughts, memories, or emotions from him with intense psychological pain.

He braced himself mentally, quickly shifting into a sense of relative calm and fortitude. His mental barrier did little when the Sister laid her assault on. Emanating from each of her fingers laid on his scalp came a great, stinging pain bearing down on the inside of his skull. It stung like a headache, but more physically violating like an invading force, as if another mind was entering his and pushing his own brain against the walls of his skull. He groaned in agony as the insidious beams of pain bored into his mind, his concentration was hearty at first, but in his weakened position he quickly fell to the dark infection. She had him all now, his body and his thoughts.

_You allow me to enter your mind with such facileness, are you legitimately that weak or do you desire me to be in here_. She purred sadistically, her prim and sharp tone growing a more sexual pulse. What Cal could notice was that she didn’t actually hear the words from her lips, instead they echoed in his mind like his own internal monologue. With her presence firmly in his mind she began to literally pick it apart. Cal felt another jolt of sharp pain as she began raking his memories and mental, recalling them and throwing them away like they were trash. He saw everything his mind had to offer, an incoherent string of visual and auditory imagery each a split second long, his whole life out of sync and out of order.

With every emotion, thought, and memory Cal ever had rushing through him at once he found it near impossible to actually form a present thought, the Sister’s mentally domination almost totally preoccupying his head. But while he was subjected to the flashes of intense, pulsating pain and her ravenous psychological interrogation he could make out a common theme in what she was searching for. Moments of memories and pangs of feelings all lined up; the childish wonder he felt at holding a girl’s hand on his home planet before his Jedi days; the sordid confliction of his crushes on his fellow Padawans when he was a youngling; the burning bout of desire when he first peaked some scrapper boys watching a stripper holoshow; and the unexpected flutters in his tummy when Nightsister Merrin removed her shadowy hood.

Every instance was a glimpse at Cal’s history of intimacy. She was trying to find anything she could use to taunt him and break him down further with her sick, sexual spite. But Cal had noticed this, and with the meek mental fortitude he still held onto he attempted to hide it, to repress it, to bury it deep down where she couldn’t find it. There was one thing in particular he could sense her looking for, and he made sure to mask that thoroughly.

_What, pray tell, is this?_ Her slithering voice rung in his mind again and another shot of pain spread through his head. In his attempt to hide his delicate information he had only made it more abundant. _Oh, how delightful…_ She purred.

“You’re a virgin.” Her voice returned to the physical world, still as received and deadly as ever. “Simply astounding. Even when your Order crumbles before your very eyes you try and uphold your ‘balance’? Is that it? Or did none of those scrapper whores take your fancy? I could imagine that, tearing open those dastardly fatigues, rolling around in the mud and starship oil. Positively repugnant.” She scoffed and removed her hand from Cal’s head with a push, sending the exhausted boys head knocking.

The pain of her probe still pulsed in his mind even as her hand left his head, there was still an all-over ache. As well he was having trouble recalling thoughts, he could have vague recollections, like that of his Master, but he couldn’t remember his name or face, even though previously they were burned into his memory. He couldn’t even remember how he came to be in this place, who had brought him here, what his purpose was. The only thing he could seem to think of was the naked woman in front of him and the terrible pain she inflicted on him.

“Y-You bitch! Wh-What ddid... youuu do… To m-me?” Cal asked shakily. His speech may have been weak, but his words were strong, he had never even swore before. His speech was near broken, he had trouble thinking of the right words and their order and even more trouble getting them out, his jaw slack and aching so much that dribble ran down his chin.

“I helped you Cal, I’m helping you forget your order and your code. I’m helping you embrace your passion.” The Second Sister said, stepping back from the torture rack and raising her hand to a small control panel attached to it. With a flick of her fingers and a small beep, the hydraulics of the machine whirred to life and Cal felt a large metallic click before everything rotated backward. After the brief revolution backward the machine loudly clicked once more, leaving Cal lying horizontally and pulling the nude Inquisitor out of his vision.

He heard the patter of feet on metal once again and looked down his body, seeing the Sister come into view, her frame clambering over the harsh metallic machine with all the register and elegance of a Coruscanti noble, although her lack of dress made her appear more like a high-class dancing girl. 

She laid her feet on either side of Cal's torso, each around the waist and let the young Jedi stare up at her. And stare he did. As much as he cursed her, his eyes could not help but follow her long, thin legs all the way up and settling on the so flagrantly displayed prize. A nest of nethers tucked between her thighs, a pair of soft, curving lips shaded brown and closed but with the slightest gleam to them. He was only afforded a brief look as she dropped down into position, balancing on the balls of her feet and dropping her knees onto Cal's stomach, winding him briefly. It was obvious she enjoyed causing as much physical pain as mental.

"All that effort to track you down, just to see you in confinement like some common rabble. But you aren't common are you? You're not as insignificant as I first thought. You're not that fumbling fool I sniffed out on Bracca, now you are a worthy Jedi, and you will make an excellent Inquisitor.” She looked down at Cal and sneered, speaking the last word out tantalisingly slow as to tease the young man beneath her.

“No! I’ll ne-never be like y-you!” He spoke shakily, clenching his jaw and drawing his eyes at her. However the Sister seemed less interested in meeting Cal’s hard stare as her eyes were lower down, taking in his chest. She was impressed by the young Jedi, a pale expanse of soft skin that seemed sealed over a tight set of hard muscle, each one tapered and bound in thin skin making them all the more defined. He was lithe, forged from his years of training and the combat he had been thrown into recently, and his body showed that, showed that underneath his ideals of restraint and respect there was a raw and dominating strength that could be unleashed. The Sister admired his potential, although it was sure that she was letting in a base perversion as well.

“You would live your life as a celibate waste, and for what? A long dead discipline?” Biting her lower lip, she questioned him, keeping her assault on his values even when seated naked on his chest. She lifted an arm, thin and lax and brought her hand to his chest, resting a trimmed fingernail delicately on the skin. There she began playing with him, running her finger in painfully slow circles around his upper chest. Her digit danced there deliberately, running over his pecs, down his sides, through the trenches of his abs, teasing him with nothing but the dull point of her nail. He hissed in pain as she neared his shiim, her finger growing in speed and pressure as it ran around the short scar under his small nipple, faster and faster it ran around it to pull the delicious pain out of him, threatening to rupture the microsutures that had been applied. “I detect so much power in you, so much potential. You could defile any female you desired, any of them would bend to your will. You wouldn’t even require the Force, just your own body to seize them, tear away their clothes, drive them into the dirt and rut them like a two-credit whore. You could break them like they were nothing.”

“I-I would never…” Cal said, although it felt like he was telling himself more than her. He had to admit he was feeling something, a building heat and unbridled physical desire deep down as she spoke to him. He clenched his eyes, attempted to ignore and overcome it, but it wasn’t as superficial as he thought. He could not simply just will it away, it was burning too bright. His lower half twitched, legs feeling even more uncomfortable in his stirrups, and his hips feeling a sudden urge to buck upwards.

“Cal…” She said, voice ethereal and devoid of its usual malice. Cal opened his eyes and looked up at her, swearing that the yellow of her eyes had dissipated. “I am giving you a chance, a chance I was not afforded. Please, by your own choice, join me.” Trilla placed her palm on the center of his chest, gentle and even loving.

“I-I… I can’t Trilla. You’re broken, I won’t let them break me as well.” Cal looked up at her, meeting her soft stare. But what looked down at him was the look of a demon, a hateful spirit seething with rage and trauma and ready to inflict on it’s prey.

“You are correct, they will not break you. I will.” The Second Sister hissed fiercely, full of rage and predation. She chuckled to herself, probably at Cal’s weak and boyish grasp on his own sanctity which she intended to strip away. She shot up to her feet again and held a hand out, fingers stretched as wide as they would go.

Cal felt the Force envelop him, but not his body, but rather the sweat-seeped pants he still wore. The fabric turned taut against him, the slack becoming tighter and tighter as the clothing rose from his body. Eventually the concentrated seams of his hardy work trousers began to dig into his flesh, rubbing and burning into him as the Sister’s hand shook from the raw power flowing through it. Then the seams started to pop, one by one the threads began to rip, travelling downward and exposing more and more of the young Jedi’s flush skin until with one final pull and twist of the Sister’s arm, the clothes gave way and were fully torn from his body, flying up in the air to land somewhere out of sight.

Cal felt the full burn of the Sister’s violating gaze on him now, the thin defense between her perversion and his virtue was stripped away, and they were left as naked as each other. In that moment he felt bare to his bones, his last scrap of hope and resistance were wavering as he lay there, body exposed and mind muddled at the dark woman’s complete mercy. 

While she herself seemed to be reveling in her dominance over the man, continuing to stare him up and down without a hint of consideration for his humanity, to her he was simply a Blurrg made to be broken in and turned useful. Although that was not to say she couldn’t extract some deviant amusement out of him.

She knelt down again, this time positioning herself further down his legs as to admire the piece that would give her the dominance she was craving. Cal’s member lay square on his belly, soft and pale as the rest of his flesh but engorged to a reddish hue and looking larger every second. He wasn’t hung like a Wookie, but it was a decent size, not particularly long but with a satisfying thickness that seemed almost willing to burst out of his tight foreskin.

“Your body betrays you.” She commented, her voice still keeping that sly and insidious tone but accented with a breathless quality, as if she was attempting at ‘sexy’ despite the situation's callous nature. She held her hand in the air again and with a slight pull from her the cock stood to attention, Cal gasping at the invisible grip squeezing him at a strain that bordered on unbearable. The Sister had made sure her Force grasp was just painful enough to keep Cal’s attention on her, and his member stimulated. “There are some things even a Jedi cannot control.” She chuckled and brought her body closer to her prize, her extended hand closing in around it and letting go of the Force, only so she could feel it’s visceral weight in her hand. 

Compared to the unseen claw of her Force grasp, her hand was rousingly delicate, a barely-there touch of her fingers that inadvertently made Cal’s hips draw upward into her grasp. He cursed himself for such a slip of face, but his body reacted quicker than his mind could stop him. The light dashing of her digits sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure through him, enough to make the man wrestle with a stifled moan, something that the woman holding him reveled in. He had never been touched there before, not even by himself and clearly his body was trying to make up for lost moments.

“My my. You are a dogged little welp, aren’t you? You’re still attempting to preserve your precious virginity?” She continued on, drawing more and more pleasure out of verbally toying with him. She lifted her body, leaning her torso back and thrusting her hips forward in a brazen display of her sexual features, her breast shaking slightly and her lips spreading with her thighs. “Most men would gladly lay their lives down for even the touch of my hand, but as I guessed, you are not most men, are you? You are special Cal, I can feel it within you.” Cal shook his head at the goading comment. He could feel that she was trying to warp his mind further, talking him up whilst leaving him bare. It was tortuous but in his already Force-distorted mind he could barely think of the words to spit back.

“Sh-Shuuut… Up. You… Your wr-wrong…” The words tumbled out of his mouth, thick and sloven. He had trouble finding them at first, and now he even failed at saying them. Trilla’s mind probe had done more than he had thought.

“You will see just how right I am.” The Second Sister reassured him as she tightened her grip on his shaft and positioned herself above it so the bulbous head rested against the velvety softness of her outer lips, making him groan in sexual agony in the process. “You have such power in you, I can feel it. That rage towards me, the fear for your friends, use them Cal. Just give in to your-” She paused for a moment and Cal, in a small moment of intrigue and weakness, looked up to meet her piercing gaze. In an instant, Trilla dropped her hips onto Cal, his head quickly finding the oh-so-warm and inviting entrance to her vagina and sliding all the way to the base “Passions!” She moaned, voice elating at the feeling of the complete spearing.

Cal himself felt absolutely winded at the sudden flush of unwanted pleasure. He felt a deep need to reject it, to wriggle himself out and protect his body, but at the same time his senses marvelled at the feeling of complete envelopment. The feeling was one of need, and anything to keep that need satisfied. The walls of the domineering nethers were invitingly warm and significantly wet, but what shocked call most was the squeeze. The organ felt as if it were pulling him in, as if it was devouring him with a voracious need like no other physical sensation.

And for Cal, it was hard to deny he wanted to fulfill her hunger. With what little remained of his emotional capabilities he hated himself for liking it, but his bodily reaction was too strong to stop himself. He had betrayed his own trust, and his cock was reveling in the feeling.

The Sister hissed as she lifted herself off him in little time. She was not about to let him get used to the ravenous grip, she was set to keeping him on edge. She rose, as did Cal’s hips, inadvertently following her upwards to try and savor every moment of her embrace. She placed a palm on his abs and pushed him down to the cold metal before dropping her hips again, eliciting another sharp moan from herself and a pained groan from her victim.

She rose again and smiled at the feeling of the shaft tenuously pulling out of her. Each centimeter of rigid flesh was a physical sensation of course, but she also couldn’t help but revel over her domination of the young, handsome man beneath her. For someone who had felt utterly powerless in the past, it was a most liberating feeling to completely domineer over another, and especially a powerful and rather cute Jedi. She stopped herself again, feeling her walls stretch around him before dropping, and biting her lip as the skewering length reached deep up inside her.

She continued her process, accelerating each rise and fall of her hips, one after the other, with rasp moans of twisted pleasure accenting each thrust downward. Each stab of his member sent ripples of ill-gained ecstasy through the Sister’s body, tensing her muscles at every drop and sending flushes of heat over her skin. 

Cal himself was feeling the physical sensation, but the pangs of pleasure he felt from his cock being swallowed over and over weren’t enough to dispel the heavy knot of shame in his stomach. All he could do to distance himself from the merciless rape was struggle fruitlessly against his binds and cry out in turmoil. However this only made the Sister more ravenous in her efforts to hurt him, to break him.

She placed her hands on his chest, digging her fingers into his muscles like the talons of a shriek-hawk into its prey, she began bouncing on him with fervour, caring absolutely nothing for his comfort or satisfaction. She merely used him as a toy, a means to her own sexual contentment and dark gain. Cal tussled all the more, but the Sister only delighted in his continued and futile wriggling, to her it was only confirmation that she was shattering his spirit. She continued to slam her hips down on him in harsh, spiteful blows to his pelvis, as if she was trying to physically break him in two with her crotch. She paired this with an intense squeeze of her walls around the young man’s shaft on every pull upward, her tight muscles keeping him inside her and lifting his hips up.

Cal let out sharp gasps of shock on every impact. He wanted so desperately to escape from his binds and from Trilla’s wicked embrace, but every time he tried to regain control or order of his body, a shot of raucous pleasure ripped through his concentration. Each incessant smack of her hips sent him writhing in malaise, each bounce a ripple of hate-wrought ecstasy that filled his mind full of fearful angst. All the bubbling emotions inside Cal were felt by his dark dominator, who sipped at them like Corellian whiskey, but at the same time desired more from the young man.

“Look at you… Pathetic! Whimpering like a Sibian pup. Where’s that gallant Jedi I was hunting? Broken! Like a bitch! Perhaps you can be my little bitch after I'm done here. I’ll have you in my chambers for me to abuse however I want… Kneeling in the corner waiting, attentive for my every demand! The Seventh Sister might get jealous!” She teased him in between rung-out whines of pleasure, baring her teeth with each twisted perversion.

“Not ye-Hrk!” He was about to protest his broken status, but before he could his breath was caught in his throat and held there, unable to escape. The Sister had held up her hand in a tight, jagged claw, her fingers straining against themselves as she held his throat in a punitive Force-grasp. Cal attempted to breath but all that was let out was a strained, ragged choke. The hold on his throat let oxygen release in small gags, but when he tried to gasp for air none would pass through. This feeling of restriction was only spurred by the unbearably tight physical sensation, the walls of his larynx being involuntarily drawn in and crushed.

“I must say your pathetic protests are quite adorably farcical, but I’d much prefer to hear you beg for me.” She seethed, a string of mad-dog drool streaming down her chin in her demented state. As she Force choked him into submission, she changed her rough and fast riding into a slower, sensual grind, sliding her hips back and forth in a fluid motion. She bit her lip and threw her head back in ecstasy as Cal’s member rolled around inside her, hitting her deepest, most pleasurable spots and building a great pressure within her. She held her walls tight on his shaft, almost unbearably tight, ringing him out and reminding him that she was in control. “I must say… I’d thought you would put up a resistance at least... But you’re allowing me to rape you with such ease… Almost as if you want it!” She hissed from a bared-tooth smile.

Cal could only listen to the Sister’s teasing and spiteful boasts from atop him. His face was flush with blood, his circulation restricted and a series of pulsating veins sprouting from beneath his skin showed his struggle to stay alive. His vision began to seep away around the edges, a murky vignette making it so that all he could see was Trilla’s deranged, snarling face of manic satisfaction. He craned his neck in pain, trying desperately to break free from the imposed hold, but it gave no release or comfort, only an increased feeling of helplessness. 

Anything he could do was taken, all control stripped away from him. He clenched his eyes and jaw in frustration from his inability to summon will. His whole life he had been taught to control himself, to have complete mastery over himself, but now he felt laid out and used. His trust, his movement, his voice, his breath, even the Force could not help him now. He was completely destitute, and it bred a burning anger inside of him.

“What more must I do to show you are my thoroughly broken little bitch? I will not cease… Until you are painfully aware of your failure… Submit now! My alternate methods shall not be so pleasurable...” She crooned wildly at her own sentence. Her talk of rape and subjugation was not only to show him she was in control, but it was much for her own benefit as well. Each egotistical jab was a reminder that she had complete power, and her feeling of power was helping her build to a strong orgasm. As her muscles contracted and her legs began to wobble slightly, she continued her verbal assault. “You shall witness your own downfall.... I’ll smelt that meager droid into slag. I’ll have your Latero captain torn apart limb by limb. I’ll cut off your new Master’s head and make you stare into her cold, insensate eyes... And that sultry little witch you acquired on Dathomir? Perhaps I’ll tear those robes away and throw her into my Purge Trooper’s barracks! They require a little ‘rest and recreation’!” She laughed almost hysterically as each word of torture edged her closer to blissful release.

Cal could stand listening to her no more. As he lay there, violated and near-death his rage swelled, seemingly the only thing keeping him from passing out. His muscles tensed from a need to outburst themselves, a need to rise and strike at the source of his fury. In his mad state he ignored his cock being worked over like a sextoy, the physical sensation of pleasure was muted, replaced by a desire to extract his revenge on the woman defiling him. 

His arms lifted against his metal bonds, wrists pressing hard into them but feeling no pain. He spurred them on with the Force, but where concentration before had shocked him into submission, his intense passions were enough to push past the wicked machinery. He was strong, stronger than he had ever felt before, slowly building his raw power until his physical strength was enough to make the metal cuffs creak with pressure. Trilla herself did not sense the sudden surge of the Force beneath her, so caught up in her own fantasies, position of power, and the sheer physical sensation of Cal’s length stirring her up that she seemed near delirious, moaning freely and contorting her features. Where she was spurred by passion, Cal was powered by one singular emotion: Hate.

With a harsh shriek the metal tore away, and Cal was freed. The Second Sister, immediately noticing something was wrong opened her pleasure-focused eyes in response, but unfortunately it was too late to respond. In a split-second Cal drove himself up and forward, his arms swinging in and his hands impacting on her throat, knocking the breath out of her as he clasped around her thin, delicate neck. Her own ethereal chokehold on him dissipated as she choked audibly from the rough handling. Cal gripped at her throat with abandon, digging his strong fingers into her with the sole intention of inflicting the same pain she had done onto him.

With the Inquisitor helpless in his powerful hands, he pushed himself forward, his body rising off the metal slab and pushing the woman in his hands with him. He tumbled forward in a smooth motion, lifting both of them off the slab and sending them falling onto the cold, grated floor. The Sister gasped as she impacted onto the platform, the little air that wasn’t being rung out of her expelling itself involuntarily. The raging Cal was now atop her, never having left her twistedly tight embrace, in fact he had driven himself deeper, his cock bearing down into her.

Then Cal did something he had been taught his whole life not to do: he gave into his desires, and his desire said to thrust. His hips pulled back and in one blink-quick moment, jabbed into the woman below him, a deep, forceful, malicious thrust into her. He grunted with pleasure through gritted teeth and Trilla herself let out a choked-out groan as she was hilted in. The young, boiled-over man wasted no time in unleashing another depth-pushing thrust into her, and another after that, and another after that, each assaulting stab of his piece was rapid and rabid. This was not some slow, teasing corruption like the show his once-defiler had done, this was an explosion of years of repressed lust and passion.

As he continued to brutally bear down on her with ferocious drives of his cock, the Second Sister writhed beneath him, the closed hands around her airway and every harsh slap of his pelvis against hers making her squirm for release. Not release from his grasp or from his pounding thrusts, but for her own release. From her desperate position, being raped and strangled by the once docile Jedi, she could sense within him a searing anger, a singular hate, a dark drive in him to dominate the weak.

She didn’t even need to sense it, she was feeling the full brunt of his anger with each second-after-second bitch-breaking onslaught. The power flowing through him, rushing through every inch of his body was raw and unrefined, a brutal display of the dark side’s will to dominate and destroy. With all that power he was unpredictable, dangerous. If he wanted to he could easily snap her neck and throw her body away with a single hand.

And that thought alone had brought her closer to orgasm than anything she had done to him. She couldn’t overpower him, and frankly, she did not want to.

Through her oxygen-deprived state her arms began to flail, reaching out and upward to Cal’s body, her trembling, crooked fingers finding any part of his sweat-streaked flesh and digging in. She gripped so tight her fingernails pierced the soft flesh, breaking it with a small burst of blood that filled her nails. Her delirious mind had lost all semblance of previous grace and contemption, now she was in the position of an animal, barbarous and wild. She pulled her arms down, running her splitting nails through her domineer’s skin, scratching long, winding streaks of crimson over him.

The caustic pain of the shallow slashes only spurred him on, the physical torment only fueling the darkness within him. His grip wringing hands closed further, his thrusts became even harder, and he shakily placed the pads of his feet on the floor to work even further into her. He looked like a Reek in heat, pinning his mate down and rutting her until he was done and satisfied. He had forgotten entirely about the person under him, her name, her history, her tormented soul, the last flash of hope and light that he saw within her, all gone. Now to him, she was just a comfy hole for him to pound out until he had fulfilled his passions.

And soon his passion would be fulfilled, as each thrust became jerked, halted slightly yet still keeping fever-pitch. Cal’s whole body tightened up as if preparing for something, for what he was not sure, all he could tell was that he wanted it, needed it at that moment. A deep pressure was swelling in his nethers, a knot of tension and burning need sat rooted in his groin, pulling deeper and deeper as if it was to implode.

Trilla herself was on the edge, flirting with it for a while now. But currently she was being pushed towards it without choice, forced to orgasm under someone else’s will. Her own body was reacting with its own contorted efforts of pleasure. She was digging her fingers wildly, clawing at every inch of Cal that she could, dragging his body closer to hers. Her eyes rolled upward as her lack of air and oncoming release sent her mind into a rush, every thought or action in that moment racing past her ecstasy-addled mind. She could do nothing but lie there and partake in the extreme pleasure being forced into her.

With a few final thrusts, each one with a barbaric grunt, Cal hilted one last time in Trilla with a subdued roar. He held the full length of his cock inside her as it pulsed wildly and beat streak after streak inside of her, splattering inside her and unleashing the first and largest orgasm of his life. The Sister underneath him felt the surging turbulence of his rapturous climax, every pump of his shaft rolling her walls, every lashing of his seed filling her up, every tremble of his body shaking against hers. She fed from it, succumbing to her own orgasm as he did his. The euphoric release burst from her, wave after wave running all the way through her body, spreading through her limbs and into her.

Her back arched, curling slightly up from the harsh metallic floor and driving her hips upwards to grind into the freely spasming cock inside her. Her legs contracted, her slender yet sinewy limbs unknowingly wrapping themselves around Cal’s waist, her thighs keeping him in place and her calves pulling him in further. Her vision had become almost entirely blurred, a stark and flickering whiteness filled her eyes as her final wafts of oxygen escaped her and her orgasm racked her choked mind, pushing her near to the point of fainting. The cunt that fit around his cock began to clench and wane around it, the slick walls growing tighter, pulling him in and ebbing to each of the cocks throbbing flows.

The two stayed there, each letting out their own whines of waning ecstasy for several seconds until finally Cal slowly loosened his fingers from Trilla’s neck, dropping her to the ground. She panted wildly as he released her, trying to make up for the oxygen she was deprived of. She lay there, her hands falling off of Cal to curl up on her own chest and her legs slowly uncoiling from him to lie on the floor, twitching almost imperceptibly. She was drenched in sweat, her tussled dark hair matted to her face, even her thick eyeshadow she had applied so expertly was smudged and ruddy. Every part of her looked how she felt, thoroughly raped and used to the point of derangement, and oh how she reveled in it. The wicked use of dark rage fueled her, stoked her own flames of domination, she was used but felt all the more powerful for it.

She gazed up at the man who had done it to her, the young, tenacious Jedi she had tracked and toyed with for so long, finally broken. Not below her in the way she suspected, but nonetheless broken. He looked it too, gulping down hitched breaths of air, sweat dripping from his flushed face, his orange hair soaked several shades darker, his eyes screwed closed. Despite his display of butalistic power, he looked so weak in that moment, like a child. The Second Sister could read him, she could tell he was cursing himself for giving in, he was suffering from himself, the dying embers of innocence and delusion flickered in his face.

“Cal…” She reached her trembling hand up and held it against his face, tracing from his jawline to his temple with the blood under her fingernails streaking his face slightly. He was still holding back, a glimmer of hope still resided in him, one that she needed to snuff out for good. “Brother…” She breathed, the word flowing out of her with such ease, her tone airy and teasing, bait for him to chase.

“Yes…” He responded, voice seething with resentment. The tight wind of his eyelids finally let up, slowly he released them, letting his eyelids pull up. What Trilla saw wrought a twisted smile of victory. He stared down at her, pulling his eyes wide so she could see her handiwork. Where once there was kind and determined blue irises now there was only the sickly yellow encircled by a deeply unsettling red, all rimmed by a weeping, bloodshot mess. The fierce and hellish eyes of the dark side, the same eyes that had terrified him about Trilla, the same eyes that had enflamed his compassion for her were now his own. “Sister…”

“Outstanding.” The Second Sister complimented, laying her head back down on the floor and admiring the eyes of the man above her.


End file.
